


Wakeup Call

by yikesola



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: 2018, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Tour Fic, interactive introverts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-14 02:37:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18043841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yikesola/pseuds/yikesola
Summary: They’re not expected to be anywhere until 2 pm and they’re going to make the most of it with room service breakfast, and holding off on editing the gaming video they’d filmed last night, and having a proper goddamn fuck.A fic about aircon in Arizona and morning hotel tour sex.





	Wakeup Call

Dan thought he’d known heat during sweltering London summers. Or Florida, Jamaica, Portugal— where the sea was always nearby so the heat didn’t really seem to matter. Hell, even sunstroke in Morocco came with chills, but as that was more along the lines of serious health concerns he figures it maybe isn’t an apt comparison.

And even though they’d been to Phoenix on the last tour, 44 degrees is still impossibly hot.

No way was it as hot in July 2016 as it is in August 2018, Dan’s more than willing to argue. Not only because of the difference in months and the fact we’ve effectively killed the planet, but also because last time felt like standing in front of an open oven door. And this time feels like laying shirtless on the surface of the sun.

Which might explain why they’d left the aircon blasting in their hotel room all night.

So much so that as Dan slowly wakes, taking in the sight of Phil’s back and bare shoulders before him, when he reaches forth to trace along the freckled paths he knows so well there’s a surprising bloom of goosebumps forming up and down what is visible of Phil.

Dan stretches his neck to lean closer and press his lips along Phil’s shoulder, Phil’s neck, Phil’s spine. If he felt the need to rationalise it, he’d say that he always runs warm, that he’s just passing the body heat along to poor goosebumped Phil.

But he doesn’t need a rationalisation here. Doesn’t need to talk himself in circles like that. Hasn’t in years.

He’s kissing Phil because he wants to feel his skin beneath his lips, he’s kissing Phil because it’s morning— a rare day where they’ll have a late morning in during a tour filled with early mornings and busy days— he’s kissing Phil because he loves him, and because he can.

Phil pushes back into him, only the slightest bit, still barely awake. Dan wraps an arm around Phil’s waist and whispers, “Morning” in Phil’s ear.

Phil grunts. It’s good enough. It’s as much of a “Good morning” as Dan’s going to get before Phil has a coffee, and he’s used to it. He has nearly nine years’ worth of mornings to compare it to.

“You cold?” Dan asks.

A huff of breath comes out Phil’s nose; shorthand for laughter. Cold in Phoenix… how first world of them.

“I could warm you up,” Dan says teasingly as he bites at Phil’s earlobe.

Phil gives a proper laugh then. “That’s what counts as seduction these days? _Let’s huddle for warmth, it’s only a million degrees outside_.”

Dan moves his hand up to tweak at Phil’s nipple in retaliation, and the gasp that slips out at that tells Dan he’s on board even with his teasing. He pulls Phil closer and nudges his forehead against Phil’s shoulder by way of asking him to turn over.

Their kiss is sweet and familiar and still quite sleepy; it’s a bit of tour tiredness mixed with all the vitamin D they soaked up just walking briefly as they did in the sun yesterday. They both managed to sleep like logs last night. A rare feat. Dan’s so grateful for it. So they kiss each other through the morning breath and through the ache in their bones from not having yet stretched or popped their spines. And true to his word, Dan warms them up when he adds heat to the kiss by nipping at Phil’s full bottom lip.

His hands travel all along Phil’s skin, always peppered with freckles and today still peppered with goosebumps down his arms and ribs and waist. Dan figures the cold is only partially to blame for their presence at this point.

Phil’s moan when Dan finally gets a hand on his cock is perfection. It’s needy and eager and Dan swallows it hungrily in another kiss that’s more enthusiasm than finesse.

They rarely have the time during these days on the road to have a proper fuck. And even rarer, due to merely habit and preference, is for Dan to do the fucking. But he wants to, god he wants to today. They’re not expected to be anywhere until 2 pm and they’re going to make the most of it with room service breakfast, and holding off on editing the gaming video they’d filmed last night, and having a proper goddamn fuck.

Dan doesn’t want to get out of bed, though their lube isn’t in the nightstand like it would be at home, but rather it’s tucked far away in their suitcases.

And that simply won’t do— he wants to fuck Phil, wants to fuck him while they’re sleepy, while they’re still soft around the edges. Before the reality of the day and the tiredness of the tour and the heat of Arizona really hits them and weighs them down.

He’s about to complain that he has to leave the sanctuary of their sheets when Phil’s arm bends back and buries itself in his pillow. He pulls out their bottle of lube and shoves it into Dan’s hand and lifts his hips to encourage him onward. He has a smug smile on his face that Dan wants to kiss away when he says, “Knew you wouldn’t be able to resist the late morning. Figured it’d save us the trouble just to have it on hand.”

Dan lets out a laugh that turns into a groan when Phil gets his hands on his ass and pulls down so their hips grind together. “That why my suitcase is a disaster, Lester?” he chokes out in an attempt at banter. 

“Nah, really was looking for wires.” Phil says.

“Can I fuck you?” Dan asks, lube already open and coating the fingers of his left hand.

Phil nods. He spreads pliant under Dan and seems to sink into the bright white hotel sheets. 

Dan rolls over, half on top of him, to get his mouth on Phil’s nipples and trace his nose through the hair on Phil’s chest while his slick fingers hesitate for only a moment at Phil’s rim. He opens Phil up slowly, thoroughly, maintaining their sleepy eagerness. The hazy morning leisure that they’re lounging in.

Phil mumbles that he’s ready once they’re both breathing heavy. The sweat tacky on their skin dries quickly thanks to the breeze of the aircon. It makes them shiver in cold, in anticipation.

Dan has a moment after he’s bottomed out, when his breathing matches Phil’s and he’s holding himself with his weight on his left arm and his other hand threads itself through Phil’s quiff, watching Phil’s face relax and nod and encourage Dan to get on with it. A moment of _yes_ , and a tingling at the base of his spine, and a wordless and flavourless and soundless vapour bouncing inarguably around his skull.

This is home. This is _home_.

He’d joked about it a few weeks ago on a liveshow, that he missed nothing from home, and gagged theatrically when Phil smiled and said “That’s because you’re hanging out with me, Dan!” but gags aside, yes— yes, Phil is his home. He’s warm and he’s so fucking good and he’s his home.

He loves him.

“I love you,” Dan grunts around sporadic thrusts as his brain is too cluttered with morning dew to properly attempt impressive rhythm. Phil moans and sighs and moans again, the small innate moans he always gives, and pulls Dan down for a kiss.

He angles his hips and keeps at that angle when Phil’s nails dig into his shoulder. The small pain and the crescent moon creases feel amazing.

Phil’s always amazing. It’s an old over-worn joke and it’s so fucking apt.

Dan knows this will all be over before he’s ready for it to be. The sex, and the late morning, and the tour itself.

He knows afterwards he’ll have to worry about purpose, and authenticity, and an eventual return to his YouTube channel that is bound to please some people and disappoint others no matter what or when he does it.

There’s a familiar spike of anxiety at the thought, at the ticking clock that’s ticking louder as they near the end of the American leg, as they’re about to perform the LA show that will be filmed and edited and released on a larger scale than he or Phil could have dared hope for years and years ago.

But that can’t possibly matter now.

Not when there’s still long stretches of tour before them. Not when there’s still hours of the morning that get to belong to only he and Phil. Not when Phil arches up to meet his thrusts and reaches for Dan’s hand to pull it towards his neglected dick.

Nothing matters but the three strokes it takes to have Phil coming apart beneath him— his choked cry beautiful, his twisted face beautiful, the come across his chest beautiful.

Dan follows shortly after, everything overwhelming and good and _yes_ just really fucking good. The tightness of Phil around his cock and the sounds they’re both making and everything… fucking, everything.

After pulling out and collapsing on top of Phil, the sweat on the rest of their bodies has dried thanks to the aircon’s relentless draught. But the sweat and come on the skin of their stomachs still pressed together and warmed between them squelches when Dan moves at last and he doesn’t even have the energy to find something poetic about it. He just feels a satisfaction through to his fingertips that he’s not about to complicate.

“Pancakes or waffles, you glutton?” he asks, reaching for the phone to order room service as Phil stands to step into the bathroom and grab a washcloth.

“Surprise me,” Phil laughs, turning back towards him. Dan thinks his smile is somehow brighter than the beaming Arizona sun. Then he rolls his eyes at his own sappiness. But he means it all the same.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading— come say hi on [tumblr](http://yikesola.tumblr.com/post/183322175989/wakeup-call) !


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